


Makeup routine for the morning after

by Chiaki_ver_2porn0 (Chiaki_Hamano)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Daddy Kink, Guilty Batdad, I blame MissNaya for this, I blame her for every single pwp I'll post from now on, If not I believe I have made it a thing, M/M, Notice me senpai, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy aftercare, ilu, is that even a thing, major sinning, not rlly, or so i hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiaki_Hamano/pseuds/Chiaki_ver_2porn0
Summary: Dick Grayson went undercover as Nightingale, a stripper at the Cupid nightclub, for a case. To give Bruce his report, he pretended to give Mr.Malone a lap dance. One too many drinks later though, they shared an intimated night with each other. This is not a story about that night of wildness. This is a story about the morning after.❤❤❤It took much longer than before, with Bruce’s hand shaking once every short while and he had to pause, pressing his forehead against Dick’s chest to steady himself. Both of them had started panting a bit earlier when Dick’s hand came up to grip at the short strands of Bruce’s hair, forcing his face against his chest like Dick didn’t want Bruce to actually switch position, leaving Bruce breathing hotly against his hardened nipples and feeling every shudder that ran down his son’s spine. The discomfort the hard ground put on his knees was completely forgotten.





	Makeup routine for the morning after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissNaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/gifts).



> Aka 'As long as you don't touch the dick, it's not wrong' fic.
> 
> Based on [this post](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com/post/162296027762/you-cannot-give-me-all-these-gems-and-then-expect/) though you don't have to read it to understand.
> 
> So, MissNaya is an awesome person and I'm totally delighted to have found her work. So this is a gift dedicated to her and her kindness and awesomeness.
> 
> I also made a bet with a friend. She said I couldn't write sexy stuff without people having sex in it. So I said "challenge accepted. Fucking watch me do it." Then this was born. I'm going to leave you guys to be the judges of whether I get that twenty bucks or not *winks* So do leave me a comment about your thoughts.
> 
> P/S: Being a total freak that I am, I think 'Dad' is sexier than 'Daddy'. And also, this is my first time actually writing PWP ~~without sex but that's not the point~~ so if it isn't up to pair, please forgive me for my lack of experience. 
> 
> ~~makeup routine is never the same again for me after writing this.~~

If it wasn’t for years of training his reflex, Bruce might not have woken up at all when the bed he was comfortably laying on shifted ever so subtly. His limbs pulled with twinges of pain but it was a pleasant ache – the kind of hurt that spoke of an indulging night next to a warm body.

 

Forcing his eyes opened, Bruce finally decided to assess the situation to see whether ‘Brucie’ had a gratifying night with a sweet little thing or if it was ‘Batman’ who had another romp in the hay with Selina after a difficult case.

 

Perhaps, it could even be one of _those_ nights where he had sex with a black hair, blue eyed stranger and then pretended that it had never happened.

 

Groggy blue eyes stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. ‘Not Selina, then’. Bruce decided. So there were only two options left. ‘Not a fancy ceiling of an expensive hotel, either.’ Not Brucie, either. Brucie would have picked a fancy hotel.

 

He was Matches Malone, it seemed.

 

Disguising it as rolling the kinks out of his neck, Bruce studied his surroundings. He seemed to be in some sort of apartment, a messy one, with clothes strewing on the floor, mixing between his and his ‘partner’ last night. Bruce’s head ached though this pain was not so pleasant. He’d had one too many drinks last night.

 

Bruce pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the various phantom pains at the movement.

 

There was a figure sitting in front of a mirror at the far end of the corner, still naked, facing away from Bruce. The shade of his honey skin and messy bed hair reminded the detective vividly of his oldest. On the sweet thing’s hips, bruises the shape of Bruce’s fingers were slowly forming, one darkening bruise layered on top of another and then another that spoke of rough, possessive grips.

 

Ah, it was another of the nights where Bruce came home, ridden with guilt.

 

He swung his legs off of the bed, picking up his white, discarded button up shirt. Slipping into it, Bruce approached the figure, intending to pay for the night and then left just like how he usually did.

 

“Oh, you’re awake,” The lookalike figure spoke suddenly and turned around to face Bruce. “Sorry, did I make too much noise?”

 

Bruce’s body jerked at the voice. He abruptly halted his movements.

 

He recognized it.

 

He also recognized the pair of blue eyes that was staring at him in earnest.

 

At once, memories of last night broke through like an opened floodgate. He was supposed to get Dick’s report at that night club. He _was_ listening to Dick’s report through hushed whispers and distracting gyrates of his son’s body. But then he had too many drinks; his head had been hazy and he had sinned.

 

He had done unspeakable things to his adopted _son_ and he had _enjoyed_ it.

 

Dick’s bright eyes darkened as he studied Bruce’s face. He seemed to be seeing something that Bruce couldn’t see because, after a short moment, Dick’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Can we… Can we not do that right now?” His son asked quietly, turning away to look down at the table. Bruce noticed the various jars of makeup that were lying on it, already opened. Dick was holding a tube of concealer in his hand.

 

Bruce’s face twisted with guilt when he saw the purple-reddish bite marks that littered the tan skin. His eyebrows turned down at the sucked swollen lips.

 

“I’m… sorry,” Bruce offered finally, not knowing what else to say. He felt like a monster when he realized that the guilt wasn’t even running as deep as he had once thought it would. “For…” His voice trailed off.

 

The corners of Dick’s lips pulled down slightly. He seemed to be composing himself. “It’s fine.” He said curtly, looking even more displeased by the apology.

 

Bruce didn’t understand though. He thought that Dick would have felt relieved by the words because it meant that Bruce didn’t actually want what happened last night to happen. Dick seemed more disappointed than anything and that threw Bruce off the loop.

 

Standing there awkwardly, Bruce shifted the weight from one of his legs to the other, unsure of what else to do. Dick had squeezed a dollop of the concealer on the back of his hand and was now testing it with his ring finger. The younger man dragged the finger in a long stripe down his neck, checking if it blended perfectly with his skin or not. It did.

 

“Dick… Chum…” Bruce called again, watching Dick pause and turned around to face him questioningly. “Let me help.”

 

It was the least he could do after putting those marks on his own son.

 

There was a stretch of silence that was too awkward for Bruce and for a brief moment, the father wondered if Dick would shy away from his touch. He would understand. Bruce had… violated Dick’s body in a way no father should.

 

Dick’s head jerked in an unmistakable nod. “Okay.”

 

Bruce approached Dick carefully. Callous fingers gently gripped the younger one’s chin to tilt it up. Sky blue eyes met icy blue ones.

 

“Don’t move.” Bruce breathed out an order, noticing distantly that his voice didn’t come out as steady as he thought it would. “I don’t want to mess this up.” It had been awhile since he applied makeup on anyone other than himself. However, he was used to the routine. Being a vigilante came with an inconvenience of having to disguise suspicious looking bruises.

 

“Okay, B,” Dick whispered, trying not to move.

 

Dabbing his thumb in the smeared concealer, Bruce gently stroke Dick’s skin in small, soothing circles. He was very well aware that there were brushes and that using fingers, especially one as rough as his, wasn’t as effective. However, Bruce’s mind rationalized that Bruce was the one that had put those marks on Dick in the first place; he should fix it himself, without any helps.

 

Tracing over a practically nasty bite over Dick’s jugular, Bruce could feel the racing beats of Dick’s heart. He remembered this one.

 

 _Dick was sprawling all over the sheet, looking both like sin and redemption. He looked so submissive, face tilted back trustingly to expose his neck to Bruce. Bruce knew, instinctively, that he had the ability to harm; He had to fight his inner demon every single night when he was out on the street of Gotham, dressed as its dark protector. However, to see Dick, who knew full well Bruce’s ability to_ harm _, so opened to him, it made Bruce want to test how deep that trust ran._

_He bit down, hard; hard enough that Dick’s body jerked but still, Dick didn’t fight. If anything, the sound that left his mouth was even more delicious than before._

 

A sharp gasp brought Bruce out of his memory and he realized that he had been pausing for too long; his finger was pressing against the bite mark hard enough that it must have twinged with pain.

 

“Sorry,” Bruce mumbled somewhat shakily, moving his finger away from that spot to the other ones, rubbing the other bruises, trying to will them away. Damn his memory for being so good. He could recount every single bruise and how they had formed the night before.

 

The one under Dick’s jaw had been because Dick had been too talkative, too demanding, too whiny that Bruce had wanted to shut that pretty mouth. Sucking a hickey into tan skin, Bruce had achieved what he wanted when the words left Dick in a breathy mewl.

 

The one that was right on the junction between his neck and shoulder had been when they were fucking; Bruce had bitten down to stop grunts of pleasure from escaping, focusing on pounding Dick hard and fast while Dick cried out in a lust-driven voice. ‘ _Dad! D-Dad! Dad, please… Please-ahh…_ ’

 

Shaking himself loose from his memories, Bruce ignored the way both Dick’s and his own breathing had grown steadily more ragged with each passing second, meticulously covering the hickeys until none were left on his neck.

 

Bruce pulled away, staring down at Dick’s dilated eyes. “It’s done,” Bruce said, grabbing a tissue and wiped his finger in the pristine paper.

 

Before Bruce could do anything though, Dick’s hand shot out to grip at his wrist. “I… Can you help me with… the rest? I’m still undercover… It will be difficult to get some of the other places.” Dick’s voice was hesitant. He appeared to be waiting for a rejection.

 

Bruce almost did. He knew this was dangerous. The longer they dragged this out, the deeper they would be in. This was quicksand and they were both being sucked in.

 

“Alright,” Bruce answered instead.

 

Bruce got on his knees between Dick’s spread legs, his eyes were on the same level as Dick’s chest. Dick’s nipples were hard, ‘ _most likely from the cold air_ ’, Bruce reasoned. He noticed the bite marks on Dick’s swollen nipples. “I’m going to… need to touch you… there.” Bruce said quietly.

 

Dick looked down at his chest before looking back at Bruce. “I know.” He said evenly. The cold air made Dick’s cheeks look flushed.

 

Bruce squeezed some more concealer on the tip of his index finger, smearing around the areola, avoiding the pink skin. His tongue darted out to moisturize his suddenly dry lips.

 

In front of him, Dick twitched.

 

“Did I hurt you?” Bruce asked worriedly, blending the concealer to Dick’s skin in broad strokes.

 

“N-No. Continue, please.” Was the subdued answer.

 

So Bruce continued. He ignored the twitches and the hitch of Dick’s breathing every time Bruce’s fingers came close or actually brushed against his nipples. Bruce had to remind himself that this was absolutely professional, just a father helping out a son while said son couldn’t.

 

It took much longer than before, with Bruce’s hand shaking once every short while and he had to pause, pressing his forehead against Dick’s chest to steady himself. Both of them had started panting a bit earlier when Dick’s hand came up to grip at the short strands of Bruce’s hair, forcing his face against his chest like Dick didn’t want Bruce to actually switch position, leaving Bruce breathing hotly against his hardened nipples and feeling every shudder that ran down his son’s spine. The discomfort the hard ground put on his knees was completely forgotten.

 

“Son, I need to, I need to continue…” Bruce said after a long moment when he felt like he could control his own body, his fingers ghosting over the bruises that marked up the slim waist, never quite touching them. The bruises fit perfectly with the shape of his hands. Of course they would, they were his after all. He had left them there purposefully.

 

‘ _Gonna mark you up, son. Gonna make it so you can never feel pleasure from anyone ever again. Every time someone fucks you, you can only think of_ me _._ ’

 

Bruce shook the memory away, fingers flexing with the desire to grip, to _bruise_. He pressed his palm flat on Dick’s stomach, gently pushing him away so he could continue.

 

“My… My thighs, _Dad_ ,” Dick said as he released his grip on Bruce’s hair, spreading his legs wide.

 

Bruce’s eyes were drawn down at the movement. He swallowed a lump of something in his throat as he stared at the length of his son’s cock, absolutely refusing to assess its state of excitement. It took several tries before Bruce could speak with too dry mouth.

 

“You should… You should put on your… your undercover clothes. I just need to mark the area that isn’t hidden.” Bruce said.

 

Dick’s eyes dilated further, pupils blown wide until the sky blue was just a small ring that seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness. He pushed himself up, unsteadily. “You have knelt for a really long time. You should sit on my chair while I get changed.” Dick said breathlessly.

 

Unable to form any sort of answers, Bruce just moved his weight to the chair, eyes tracking Dick’s every move. It was logical to do so, Bruce reasoned. Dick seemed unsteady on his feet, Bruce didn’t want anything to happen to his son.

 

Dick made his way toward the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, his movements drew Bruce’s attention toward the distracting swing of his hips and down to his shapely ass. There was a handprint on his cheek. Bruce’s face reddened faintly at the memory.

 

‘ _Naughty child. You think it’s okay to tease your own father? I’m going to bend you over my lap and spank you for that insolence. You want this, don’t you? That’s why you were such a tease, volunteered to be a bitch on the dance floor._ ’

 

‘ _Da-_ ahh _! I’m sorry…_ oh _…_ _Ughmm... Dad... Sorry for being a tease!_ Oh _!_ ’

 

Bruce’s trailed his eyes downward. He choked quietly to himself when he saw the dry track of semen that stuck to the back of Dick’s thighs.

 

‘ _Gonna stuff you full of cum, son. You are mine, you hear me? Mine. Going to fuck you until you remember that._ ’

 

Dick had picked up his scaly panties. He glanced back at Bruce before looking down at the object in his hand. Bruce found that he couldn’t look away when Dick bent over, putting one leg through the hole after the other, pulling the fabric up his smooth, hairless legs until it fitted snuggly between his ass crack. Dick’s hand absently tugged it free, the movement made the bubbly ass bounce very subtly.

 

Bruce swallowed yet again. He was suddenly very aware that he was not wearing pants and his shirt couldn’t reasonably cover any… accidents if it happened.

 

“Is this enough, B? When I dance, I only leave my panties on.” Dick said.

 

Bruce couldn’t reply.

 

“B?” Dick pressed, lips tugging up slightly in an expression Bruce couldn’t decipher.

 

“Y-Yes. That’s fine. Come here.” Bruce ordered, noticing that the panties didn’t cover Dick’s erection, either. Bruce reached over to the wet tissue box and pulled one free from its confinement. “I’m going to need to clean you up first,” Bruce said, reaching over to pull on Dick’s wrist, closing the last of their distance.

 

“Turn around,” Bruce said, watching Dick comply wordlessly.

 

With the wet tissue in his hand, Bruce slowly scrubbed at the dry trail of come, ignoring Dick’s surprised hitch and then the trembling of his knees. Bruce dragged the tissue upward, moving slowly toward his son’s ass.

 

“Inside. Inside is dirty, too.” Dick’s whisper made Bruce pause his hand. His son whined at the halt of movement.

 

Bruce grunted. “Silent.” He said roughly, dumping the dirty tissue on the floor while he pulled free another one. One of Bruce’s hands moved the panties aside just enough to show the puffy hole.

 

At the first press of the tissue against the tender hole, Dick let out a loud, needy whine. “Dad- _ah_ …”

 

Bruce tried not to notice how heat gathered on his lower stomach at that one needy word, cleaning around the hole first until it slowly unfurled, gapping greedily. Biting back the words that threatened to form, Bruce slowly pressed one tissue-covered finger inside Dick’s hole, cleaning away the left over come from last night’s event.

 

Dick’s hand jerked wildly and he waved his hand behind his back until he found Bruce’s hair again. He gripped it in a death grip, shoving the older man’s face forward until Bruce’s face was directly facing that twitchy hole.

 

“Calm down.” Bruce spoke gravelly, feeling another full body shudder and the barest tightening of Dick’s grip before there was a small, soft ‘ _Yes, Dad_ ’ that did things to him.

 

Bruce believed he had been very professional in his task. Slowly moving his finger around to clean away the mess until Dick’s hole was too loose for one finger and Bruce was _forced_ to push another one in. It was reasonable. If Dick was too loose, Bruce wouldn’t be able to clean him properly. The same logics applied when Bruce had to press the third finger in. It was also understandable that Dick started to whine and writhe. The stimulation must have been too much. So of course, in pain, Dick must have made noises.

 

After a while, it was absolutely clear that Dick was clean, too clean, even. Bruce regretfully pulled his fingers out.

 

“Face me,” Bruce said, gritting his teeth when his voice came out lust-ridden.

 

Dick turned around.

 

Bruce studied his son’s face, the flush of his cheeks spoke of painfully fragile self-control.

 

“Spread your legs.”

 

Bruce’s fingers ghosted over Dick’s inner thigh, touching the firm muscles over surprisingly soft skin.

 

He felt Dick up for a few moments, unable to give any good reasons for touching the tender bite marks like this.

 

They said ‘ _There is a battle of two wolves inside us all. One is evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, lies, inferiority, and ego. The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy and truth. Which wolf wins? The one you feed._ ’ Right now, Bruce’s demon had won. He was allowed the desire he tried so hard to bury to break free. He should be ashamed.

 

And he _was_.

 

He was _ashamed_.

 

It didn’t stop him from leaning closer to the warmth. He felt Dick’s leg twitch at the close proximity and his lips brushed against the dark skin tantalizingly. “We need more concealer.” Bruce finally forced himself to say, pulling away. A breath left Dick softly, almost in disappointment.

 

Bruce returned to rub the makeup into Dick’s skin, massaging until the hickeys disappeared under his skillful hands and Dick was twitching with each movement, gasping softly at the radiating heat and leftover pain.

 

“I have to… I have to go back later, to begin my shift.” Dick said quietly.

 

Bruce looked at Dick, studying his son’s face. He cleaned his fingers and traced Dick’s lips with his thumb. “Is that so?” He asked, eyes tracing the curl of the young man’s full lips.

 

Dick parted his lips and for a moment, Bruce thought Dick would have sucked his finger in. But then he spoke, voice trembled like he was just barely hanging on. “Yes. Can you help me with my face, too?” He asked.

 

Bruce pulled his fingers away. “We’ll have to do something about it then. Can’t have them looking at you when you are not your best.” He said, reaching over the slowly smooth over the corner of Dick’s lips. He had sucked it to the point of it being bruised. He had wanted to mark him up so that no one could ever touch him without knowing who he belonged to. ‘ _You look like a whore. My whore._ ’

 

Something must have shown on Bruce’s face because Dick’s eyes became lidded. “You should put on some lipsticks,” Bruce said, breaths ghosting over Dick’s lips. “I think cherry red looks good on you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes,” Bruce answered, reaching over to grab the tube of red lipstick. He knew that he didn’t have to use his finger, knew that already. However, he just couldn’t. He was only a man. And a man only had so much will power.

 

Dick’s lips parted open for Bruce to trace his finger slowly over it, the top lip first, then the bottom one, smoothing over the soft flesh. It caused his thumb to tingle pleasantly.

 

“The lip gloss, too,” Dick whispered, the tip of his tongue hesitantly licked at Bruce’s invading finger. “Cherry flavor is fine.”

 

Bruce nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He picked the lip gloss and painted it over Dick’s lips carefully. He felt his teeth worry his bottom lip. As if in a trance, Bruce asked, voice pitched low. “Do you want me to check it? See if it works?”

 

“Yes, Dad, please do,” Dick whispered back.

 

Bruce braced his hands on either side of Dick’s hips, knowing that if he did it, there would be no going back. No denying. Nothing. There was no excuse for this.

 

Still, he hadn’t been using his reasons since the beginning of it all, had he? His reasoning was his excuse and only an excuse. This though, this was, real, even more real than anything else, even his life purpose. He didn’t have alcohol to blame it on. He was away from prying eyes and didn’t have to play the part of Matches Malone.

 

Dick leaned closer, so slowly to give Bruce all the time he needed to pull away.

 

He didn’t. _He couldn’t_. He was frozen on the spot, hypnotized by cherry red lips and promises of sins, sins that wouldn’t touch his morals of no killing and yet, they still satisfied the demon in the dark corner of his mind. He could feel it within his grasp. He knew Dick wouldn’t say no. He knew Dick wouldn’t reject him, not in this. Not when his son’s eyes dilated at the prospect of a taboo relationship behind closed door, rushed quickies at the back alley or rough fucks where Dick called him ‘Dad’ and Bruce thought of Dick as his sweet young thing, his son to corrupt.

 

Better yet, he didn’t even need to initial it. He just needed to stay still, to not pull away. He just needed to accept the kiss.

 

The phone rang.

 

The sound was so abrupt; it jerked Bruce out of his trance and broke the spell between them. Bruce pushed Dick away to grab at his phone. It was Lucius. “Yes?” Bruce asked; his voice strained. He didn’t know if he should be glad for the interruption or not.

 

Bruce had a meeting that he had been an hour late to. Of course, he had a meeting at just this exact moment. He always had a meeting. This was an out for him.

 

Hanging up the phone with a grunt that could be intercepted as a yes or a no, Bruce turned back to Dick who was still waiting patiently. There was a choice. Of course, there was a choice. There was always a choice. Bruce brushed the hair away from his eyes. “I… I have an important meeting to attend to.” Bruce finally said.

 

“Oh.” Dick breathed out, a humorless chuckle escaped his lips.

 

“Yes, continue your mission. If you deem your information is accurate, you can stop your cover. If not, continue it.” Bruce said, all business again. He wasn’t quite Batman just yet though. Batman would have been decisive. He wouldn’t have given Nightwing a choice.

 

Bruce removed himself from the seat and picked up the discarded pants on the floor along with his jacket, putting them on.

 

“B?” Dick called, voice soft.

 

Bruce turned around, raising an eyebrow.

 

“If… If Nightwing deems the information isn’t adequate yet, will… Will Mr. Malone visit Nightingale at the Cupid Club again? Nightingale might have a favorite customer now…” Dick asked hesitantly.

 

Bruce’s lips thinned, his brows furrowed together. He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say a word, leaving the room without looking back at Dick. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway.

 

The demon inside was still so strong.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end of the one-shot! Thank you so much for taking the time to read, comment, give kudos, bookmarks and subscription, they brighten my day :D
> 
> If you want to read stories with plots, please consider my other pseudo "Chiaki_Hamano", this is mainly where I post things without plots. :D
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr!](https://chiakifics.tumblr.com/)


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